


Smile, Bravery.

by TEC



Category: Original Work
Genre: Drawn Story Prompt, Sci-Fi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 11:10:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20470061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TEC/pseuds/TEC
Summary: She wished she could live in one place and just stay there.Nothing was sacred. Every day of her life had to be reported. Every. Single. Bit.She wished she had privacy, the freedom to keep the precious in her heart, rather than in painfully emotionless reports. She would never have something that was hers and hers alone.He wished he didn't have to take away her freedom, word by word.





	Smile, Bravery.

**Author's Note:**

> As promised! It's a three day weekend, so you guys get a Drawn Story Prompt!  
Enjoy!

“Come on, come on, come on!”

Bravery ran from place to place, looking like a human ping pong ball as she went from left to right around her apartment. She was late to work, again. She was always bad with getting up, leading to situations such as this, always putting her alarm on snooze one too many times, or forgetting to set the alarm all together.

Now, she was late because she put her alarm on snooze ten times, instead of the promised five. She was now digging through her drawers, looking for her barista uniform. She whooped, loud enough for the neighbor’s cat to look at her, disgruntled, through the one window of the apartment. She waved hello to Mittens–earning a hiss–and ran to the kitchenette, snatching her phone up from the top of the stove top.

Putting her headphones, making sure that her uniform wasn’t _too _wrinkled and getting enough change from the couch cushions for a powdered donut, she threw her bag over her shoulder and zipped from the apartment, making a beeline line for elevator.

As soon as the doors made their pleasant _ding! _she bolted from them and ran to the sidewalk. Putting on her favorite playlist–Late to Work–she got into a brisk jog and made her way to the coffee shop, greeting everyone in her sight as she passed. The jog was a good part of her day, the cool air feeling good on her face. It also gave her moments of socialization, waving at people and cooing at their pets as they walked past. She just had to ignore the looks and laughs.

_Just _as she was starting to see black, she saw Tim opening the door, used to her less-than-punctuality. Grabbing onto the doors, covered in sweat and panting, she thanked the stars for her best friend, who quickly took her by the arm and past the customers. He looked stern to all the patrons, yet a slight quirk of the mouth gave away his amusement.

He rushed her towards the women’s restroom, “I swear,” he mumbled to her, “You would have been fired months ago if it wasn’t for me!” Bravery eyeballed him wryly, “Does he know?” Bravery asked like her namesake.

“Of course, he doesn’t! The manager would kill _both _of us if he knew about you being this late–he’d kill me for spite!” He pushed her into one of the stalls, seeing the restroom clear of ladies, “The man thinks your in the back making powdered donuts. I told him we were out.”

“Oh! Speaking of which,” Bravery dug into her bag, looking for the bits of coinage that she had managed to scavenge from the depths of her couch. Tim held up a paper bag right in front of her face, waving it to and fro, tantalizingly, “I was thinking you cared about my life enough to skip breakfast.” Bravery snatched the bag from him, giving him a slap when he chuckled. Opening the bag, she breathed in deep at the luring smell of fried batter and sugar, reaching in to grab one.

She squeaked indignantly when Tim snatched the bag away, stretching his arm over his head, out of reach.

“Ah, ah, ah!” he tsked, “You smell like a locker room, which is a dead giveaway to Satan out there.” the manager, “You only get these _free powdered donuts, _once you look–and smell–decent.” With that threat, he put his arm down and walked out of the stalls, turning beet red when an elderly woman opened the door and saw the young man there. Cackling, Bravery grabbed a bunch of toilet paper from the stalls, greeted the lady sweetly and went to the sink to wash off some of the sweat.

The sweat was already drying uncomfortably on her cloths, making her itchy. Wetting the toilet paper until it got that disturbing brown-grey color toilet paper does, she started to go over her body and cleaning the perspiration off. It only took a few minutes, and the perfume that the sweet, laughing lady gave her seemed to absorb any locker room odors that were coming off her. Finally, she wiped off her face, looking in the mirror.

Her cinnamon colored hair was in disarray and was refusing to wield to the power of her one-dollar brush. Her sun-kissed skin had beads of perspiration crawling across it, going to her forehead and collecting in her brow. Her too big, bright blue eyes stared back at her, her rosy lips making a small, closed-lip smile. She put her hands on the sink, studying herself, and remembering what that lady looked like, what Tim looked like, what _everyone _looked like.

Hesitantly, she smiled. Her mouth opened widely, and terrifyingly, opening the bottom half of her face. While her _lips _were normal, her _mouth _was not. Her mouth went along the length of her jaw, giving her the look of a human shark, and the sharp teeth inhabiting it did not help lessen the image. She looked like she grabbed a knife and messily carved a permanent smile on her face, only she was born like this.

“AHHHH! MOMMY!”

Bravery’s head snapped to the scream; her mouth snapping shut. A little girl, no more than eight, looked at her with such _horror_ that Bravery’s stomach dropped. Bravery bent low, reaching towards the little girl, attempting to console her. The little girl was having none of it, screaming that blood curdling scream again and running from the restroom. Bravery visibly slumped, leaning back over the sink, only looking at her face more. She rubbed her fingertips across the small stone under her eye, the color of a peach, shivering at the rough texture. They were under each eye, perfectly symmetrical and as round as a river pebble.

The door opened, the head of a nervous Tim poking out of it, “Bravery,” he said concerned, “Are you okay?” She shrugged her shoulders, used to the reaction that her smile got out of the little girl. Tim fully let himself into the bathroom, the whispers of gossipers following the action, and went to her. Bravery jumped at the hand that fell on her shoulder soothingly, she turned to Tim, and was met with sorrowful eyes. Tim looked down, “That girl was a little brat, screaming at you like that.” Bravery smiled, the strain obvious, “Nah, she wasn’t. Anyone in their right mind would scream at me.” Tim looked at Bravery angrily at that, mouth opening in a retort, but then closed with a sigh.

Deeming her fit enough to serve, he made her wash her hands and led her to the front countertop. As she got to the cash register, she saw the bag of donuts and a steaming coffee. Bad feelings gone. Tim was hysterical as she _pounced _at the little delicacies, eating three in under a minute, not even looking at the coffee. After the fourth, her throat sufficiently felt like the Sahara and she went to take a sip, moaning in bliss as she recognized the brand. Tim Hortons, heck yes!

Tim, still suppressing fits of laughter, leaned against the countertop, next to her, “I’m guessing you like my gift?” This only launched him into another round of chuckles, fists banging on the faux marble surface. Bravery glared at him from the side, still occupied with her coffee. When she was done, she slammed down the empty cup and stared at him, then, with no warning, she got close to his face and…burped.

“Bleh!”

“Ah, Hell! Bravery!” Tim covered his nose with his hand, backing away and waving his other hand in the air, trying to suppress the gas. “Jesus Christ, might as well be mustard gas!” Tim and Bravery proceeded to jab and poke at one another, calling each other names and pushing each other playfully, much to the amusement of the patrons. Only when The Manager stuck his head out, shouting at the two of them to, “Get back to work!” did the two scramble and go to their proper stations. As Tim was sweeping the floor of straws and stirrers, he swept closer and closer until he got close to the countertop. When he was within whispering distance of Bravery, he spoke, “Ya know, I think I might be getting a bit too deep in the whole, ‘barista’ cover.” Bravery jumped at the sound of his voice, gazing at him dumbly before snapping out of it and replying, “What do you mean?”

Tim shrugged his shoulders, feigning to sweep, “I mean, I’m starting to actually be _scared _of big guy over there,” Tim explained, pointing his thumb behind him sarcastically to where said ‘big guy’ was, cooing at the little girl that screamed at her and the little girl’s mother, no doubt apologizing for the scare that his employee gave the girl.

“To be fair,” Tim continued, “The man _is _stricter than my _drill sergeant_–even he excused us when we collapsed–but, come on! I should not be scared of the man. I probably make more in a month than he does in a year. All of that for babysitting you.” Bravery shifted uncomfortably, not liking the comparison of her to an unruly child. Tim’s easy grin slipped when he saw her shift, he thought about what he said and could have slapped himself for his stupidity. “Then again, I get paid that much and I can’t even stop sounding like a dumb jerk.” He ‘swept’ to the front of the counter and leaned back against, looking up at her with a pouty face.

Bravery laughed and swatted at him when he kept fluttering his eyelashes at her and whimpering like a dog, “Alright, alright! You’re forgiven–jerk.”

“You know you love me.”

A screech curdled the air once again, as the same little girl stared at Bravery in horror. Bravery turned red when she realized she had smile, big and wide. Tim never minded–in fact, she had doubts if he even processed it anymore–but everyone else did. Tim stood up to his full height, glaring at the little girl, “That’s no way to treat someone young lady,” he said strictly, “Just because she looks different, does not mean you get to treat her with that kind of disrespect.” The Manager was bashful, embarrassed for the little girl and mother.

The mother pointed her nose up in the air, not even acknowledging the big man’s warning glance, “Well, if she doesn’t want to get treated rudely, maybe she should not come to a public place with small children.” With that, the rude mother and child walked out of the shop, sharp glares of steel from all sides echoing her footsteps.

Tim looked to Bravery, waiting to comfort the young woman. He thought every bad word in every language, all directed at the mother, but he would not stand there and curse if his friend needed him. Bravery smiled shyly, only giving her head a shake, she was okay. Honestly, she was quite used to it.

“Ugh, what a _bitch!” _All heads swiveled to the voice–that said what they were all thinking–it was the little old lady, century-old purse in her lap and perfume covered. She cheeks turned pink at all the attention, but she continued nonetheless, “Well, she was. Come here dear,” she extended her hand out to Bravery, who walked over and took it, the few patrons of the shop staring on. The elderly lady wrapped Bravery’s hand between hers, warmth surrounding it, “Now, listen here young lady. Don’t you ever let someone judge you based on _what _you are. Actions should always speak louder than that. I remember the time when someone’s _skin _color was important. Can you imagine? Out of all the things to judge a person’s character on, we chose the color of a person’s _skin!” _Bravery, and several of the other people in coffee shop laughed. The lady continued on, “If that doesn’t tell you that we have some work to do, then nothing will. Not too long ago, people with disabilities were considered retards, and undeserving of the things you and I have. Only just recently, is homosexuality considered okay in this–and many more–countries, and something as beautiful as the rainbow is what represents them. I myself had a girlfriend, who I could never marry until just recently.” Tears sprang to the old woman’s eyes, which she discreetly wiped away, “Oh, how I love her, how I loved her! But, no one thought we should stay together, they thought we were freaks, and drove us out of our home. I have just gotten into contact of my estranged mother, who, after all these years, wants to come and meet her daughter-in-law. In fact, she’s coming to this little shop–my favorite little coffee shop–with my _wife _to talk and catch up.”

Bravery thought she heard someone blow their nose as the lady spoke, “Nowadays, it’s all about looks. How skinny, how large. How muscular, how small. Full lips, shiny hair, you name it!” She threw her hand up in exclamation, the customers and her laughing, “I know people expect someone of my age to have some deep wisdom to give, but I don’t.” She smiled apologetically, “All I know is this–people like to judge. Something in our blood makes us take one look at a person and go, ‘Ugh!’ It does not matter why, it just is. It’s not fair, but it’s there. There will always be something that someone judges about, we just have to hold our heads up high and accept that.” She gently grabbed Bravery’s chin, “You are different in many ways, so is your Asian friend there.” She meant Tim, with his black hair, almond shaped, blue eyes and thin stature. Neither of them knew where he got his freakishly tall stature from, since both of his parents were as short as could be, but one would never hear him complain, or his mother who made sure she took him on all her grocery trips. The lady smiled at them both, “People will judge you both. People already have, in fact.” Both Tim’s and Bravery’s heads dropped, looking back at times when they were carelessly teased, “Those words should never harm you; you should never _let _them harm you. I know its easier said than done, I know people’s words dig into you and worm their way into your heart, but you can’t let them plant doubt and self-despair in you. That will let them win,” she passionately spoke, “And we _can’t _let them win!”

She let go of Bravery’s hand and got greeted with applause and whistles from those around them. Bravery stood in shock at the kind words, tears sliding down her cheeks as Tim took her hand and led her to the register, slowly. The manager stopped them, telling them that they had the day off. Tear tracks shined against the sun’s rays and he held a picture of the rude mom, which he printed from cameras’ video. He walked to a bulletin board, with a sign that read in big and ugly red letters, “BANNED!” He walked up to the board, which had no names or photos beforehand, and pinned the mother’s photo on the bulletin board, leaving the child out. She couldn’t help the way she was raised. For now.

Maybe the Manager wasn’t so bad.

Not giving the man time to take it back, Tim grabbed Bravery’s hand and _dragged _her out of there, bumping into two ladies dressed fancily. After apologizing, Tim continued to run away from the shop, laughing and jumping like an idiot all the way. As they were playfully skipping together, arm in arm, and singing goofy cartoon shows, the duo ran out of breath and practically collapsed in front of a flower clad apartment complex. Hers.

Bravery looked at her apartment window, Mittens still looking through the sole window, in dismay. Punching Tim in the shoulder, she breathlessly laughed, “Did we just skip all the way to my home?” Tim blinked at her, following her line of sight. He stared at her window stupidly, blinking quickly then slowly, then turned to her steadily. His lips raised, quivering with effort, before he gave in and _lost. It. _He was hysterical, inconsolable, unable to breathe as he held his sides in his laughter, only able to hiccup small “How?” s and “Yes!” s. Bravery now dragged the man, going to the elevator and pressing the small 4 on the array of numbered buttons.

Tim continued to hiccup and squeak laughter as she dragged him, pleasantly annoyed, to her apartment, getting a swat and hiss from Mittens as she unlocked her door. She dumped the calming man on her couch, huffing as she went to her small fridge to get a thing of Chinese takeout that might have been past its expiration date. Heating it up in the microwave, after putting some water on the rice to make it not as crunchy, she started to salivate at the small of orange chicken. She had been living off of powdered donuts for a good week because of her schedule, she needed real–real enough–food. It had been an exhausting day already.

She looked to the stove’s clock, glancing disbelieving at the time. It was only 2! With as tired as she was, she would have sworn up and down that it was _at least _5, not stinking 2! Tim also seemed to be surprised with the time, wide eyes meeting her own in agreement. Throwing her hands up, she went to the dinging microwave and snatched the food out a bit too aggressively. Walking to the couch, she slumped on it and opened the Styrofoam container, not caring about the dangers of microwaved Styrofoam for the moment. Tim looked at her poisonous lunch apprehensively, then shrugged. If she wanted cancer, she could get cancer.

Tim had no complaints when Bravery slumped against _him, _his right arm going over her shoulders without a word. They stayed liked that for a good half hour, wanting to fall asleep, but adrenaline from all the drama keeping them from their naps. Tim scratched underneath his chin, “What are we going to tell the base?” he questioned.

Bravery shrugged her shoulders. She honestly did not care whatsoever. She had been away from the base for so long, that most days she forgot it existed. Only Tim ever remembered, and even he rarely mentioned it. He wouldn’t let go of the subject, gently shaking her shoulders, “Hey! What should we tell them? I know its more my job than yours, but your input would be _somewhat _appreciated.” He continued to shake her, his efforts only getting small groans and big punches to his now sore sides. He eventually resorted to tickling her senseless, holding her squealing form close he got answers from her. As soon as he got to the small, peach-colored stones beneath her eyes, she gave in.

“Okay! Alright!” She laughed, “Jerk! Tell them that a mother and her child upset me, that’s it!” Tim raised his brow, “Nothing about the sweet lady?” She shook her head; she did not want to give them that. The young man seemed to know her thoughts and nodded, he took a tablet from the coffee table and logged in. No matter how many times he told her, she always left her diary where anyone could just snatch it and be off. Shaking his head, he wrote a report to the superiors and quickly sent it.

“There’s that done and over with,” he sighed, folding his arms above his head, “Want to go for a walk, kill off some energy?” Bravery shook her head again. She pushed him until he was on his back, on the couch, then she tiredly laid on him, clocking out as soon as her head rested on his chest. Tim laid stiffly for the first few moments, before relaxing his muscles and closing his eyes himself.

His eternal clock was what woke him up, the sun not even sending indigo into the sky yet. He looked down to find Bravery drooling on his uniform, hair even more disarrayed than ever before. Tim laid back with a sigh, affectionately stroking Bravery’s hair as he grabbed the tablet. 5am, he sighed and put the tablet back down, two more hours before they would have to get up and go, one more hour if they wanted to properly get ready, three more hours before Bravery would wake up and panic. Tim chuckled, the sound reverberated in his chest and making the woman hit him weakly before falling back asleep.

A sound of ringing got him out of his half-asleep, the buzzing in his pocket alerting him to the call. Pushing Bravery’s limp arm away, he snatched the phone out from his pocket and answered. His superior was on the line.

“Sir?”

“Where is she?”

Tim was confused, “Right here with me, Sir.” He heard a pause, “Is something wrong?”

“Where are you?”

“…”

“Boy!”

Tim jolted, “Sorry, Sir! At her apartment, Sir!” Bravery was now awake, drool going down the side of her long mouth.

Tim put his finger to his lips, pointing at the phone. Bravery glared but obeyed and laid back down, grimacing and blushing at the feel of something wet. “Kid,” his superior said, “We’re getting reports she’s out of the _state_. Care to explain?” The young man paused, speechless, before answering slowly, “I got nothing, Sir. You can send someone right this second and we’ll _both _be here. Is her tracker faulty?” Tim groaned when he heard a familiar voice mockingly asked, “_Both?” _He grinned when his superior snapped at the punk and told him to get back to work, not unlike his ‘manager.’

His superior went back to the call, “Must be, the thing is in heart, for God’s sake. There’s no way she, or anyone else, could have got it. Not without killing her at least.” The thought made them both silent. Tim asked, “Do you want us to return to base?” with a quiet voice, not knowing what else to say in the silence, “That would be best, we need to know what the problem is.” With that, his superior hung up. Tim sighed, prying Bravery from himself and getting up.

He made the first call to his sleepy manager, telling him that they needed to resign and leave as quickly as possible. He made some excuse about a bad ex and the big man immediately understood, saying he had a daughter himself, and would tell the others that the two of them had to move for school, promising a reference if they ever needed one. Thanking the man for everything, he hung up and called the next person on his list, his parents. Telling them he had to go back to the base was easy, they knew he was in the military and he just had to tell them that his superiors needed him, and they would not ask any questions. The final call was forewarning the base of their arrival, describing their car in vivid detail before hanging up.

The sun was shining by the time everything was done, and Bravery woke up in a panic as she read the time. 8:30am. She started to scramble like never before, throwing her smelly uniform on the floor and running to her drawers. The manager would let her wear normal clothes, just this once, right? She was so focused on getting ready, that she failed to hear the loud laughter in her kitchen, fists banging on the countertop as Tim shook and shook with amusement. He let her get all the way to the door before spilling, telling her that they were officially resigned and heading to the base to check on her tracker–she didn’t have to get ready.

Bravery squeaked and started to pound on Tim, who was laughing too hard to properly dodge.

Tim only brought the bare minimum with him, so he would just leave his two shirts, pants, and pairs socks for the next lucky resident. He was wearing his only pair of shoes, and he didn’t care how unprofessional it was to appear at his superiors’ in nothing but a smelly barista uniform. Bravery on the other hand, needed a good hour to get all her knickknacks and clothes in a few boxes and bags. Bravery gave Mittens a pat on the head, who actually let her since the cat could sense that this would be the last time the two would see each other. Mittens rubbed against her hand, a purr loud and clear in their throat. After Tim swung the last bag in the trunk of his parked car, the two drove off, Bravery tearing up at the loud meows that followed them.

Bravery ran her hands up and down the sides of her arms, nostalgia already coursing through her violently. She would miss this; she would miss it with all her heart. Tim sensed her thoughts and wrapped her hand around his, twining their fingers and swinging their hands around–causing her to chuckle–before putting their combined hands on the clutch.

“Want to talk about it?” Tim asked, knowing the reaction it would give, but the result of it would cause. Bravery glared at him, right on cue, “Why do you care? I thought you were my _babysitter_?” Tim grinned at her, “I thought I was forgiven for that?” He winked and continued, “I am your ‘babysitter,’ but I am also your friend.”

“That’s your job.” Bravery huffed, hugging herself with her free hand, still not wanting to let go of his. “No,” he disagreed, “My job is to watch over you and be friendly. Being your friend was my decision.” He waved their combined hands for emphasis, “That was all me.” Tim gave her his famous smile, only famous because his coworkers would all tell the same thing. He never smiled, not really. He would smile and be goofy if it was a part of his cover, but other than that, he was a cold, stone wall. Bravery smiled, knowing its rarity, and calmed down immensely.

Thudding her head against the seat, she asked, “Why do we have to leave? Completely?” It was the same question, with the same stupid answer, “Because they want to minimize the chances of getting kidnapped.” Bravery’s eye twitched, “No one, but the base, even knows I exist.” Tim came back with the same answer to the same retort, “But if someone did find out about you, and we could not detect it, they could snatch you up and murder you. Make sure we don’t get what you have.”

“I don’t have anything!”

“They won’t care.”

“I don’t want to go!”

“They don’t care.”

“I won’t run away!”

“That won’t matter.”

“What’s so special about me?”

“The fact that you exist.”

Bravery slumped, tears misting her vision, allowing Tim to tear up himself without her seeing. Tim changed gears, working around their joined hands as he reversed away from a car, he was too close to. The sun started to go down when she finally looked up, neck straining painfully from their locked position. Tim was looking at the road ahead of him unblinkingly, after hastily wiping his eyes. He glanced her way and smiled, gentle and small.

She asked the same question she asked every time they moved, “Any news?” Tim shook his head at the question, not even bothering to try and count how many times he was the one to squash her hopes. She was asking if one of her own was spotted, asking if she could have a friend that _wasn’t _him.

Asking if she was alone in this world of his.

Her home, it blew up in an explosion of _their _creation. He knew, she eventually found out and tried to carve his heart out with a steak knife in rage. Her face opening in heart-stopping rows of sharpened teeth. It took him ages to calm down her rage, took hours to quiet her heart-wrenching sobs, took even longer for them to look each other in the eye.

He did not want to play babysitter for an alien, those were his words when his superiors told him of what he was to do. If he could go back in time, he would travel back to when he said those words and punch past-him in the gut. He would now strangle anyone who would try to replace him as her guard. He hated anything he could not control. He was even worse before he was assigned to her. He was such a control freak, that everyone would look at him distastefully and mock him, like that punk over the phone call. He wanted things his way, and he wanted them that way only. He could not even see an alternative way of doing things, and he would all but foam at the mouth at the mention of doing things another way. Then he met her.

She was hell on earth. He wanted to strangle her from day one, she was the reason he had to pretend to be a lowly janitor, a construction worker. Hell, a freaking bellhop! She would do things the wrong way _just _to get on his last nerve–which she did frequently–and he would rise to the bait every time. Every. Single. Time.

Over time though, she grew on him, and he would laugh when she mocked him for his control-freak-ness, he still remembered her shocked squeak when she first saw him smile at one of her jabs. The little annoyance was his best friend, God help him, and he would do anything for the lonely girl next to him. It took a few moves for him to finally see just how lonely she was, for him to empathize and feel the heart-wrenching sorrow she went through, was _still _going through. They killed her family. They killed her _race. _Paranoia getting the better of them and sending bombs of the most devastating proportion to their innocent planet. Only when the planet was a ball of blood red and sickening black did the humans feel sorrow, feel regret, and the scientists that sent those bombs would have to feel that regret for the rest of their lives. Over half of them had killed themselves, in one way or another, before the year was up. Many of them saw redemption in the small girl that crashed on their planet, in a twist of fate, and had stopped their plans of self-destruction to properly care for the girl.

Even cold-hearted him felt nausea, when he had found out what they had done, it was what had tipped him to accept the role as her knight-in-annoying-armor. It was the least he could do. There was still a chance that someone else managed to get out of the planet before the explosion, but after ten years of silence, it was a very low chance. He and the other depressed scientists and taken turns in teaching her the languages and customs, learning as many languages as he knew and learning how to just be. She found out when she was fifteen, found out that they were the ones who played god on her planet, and went after Tim first, the cruel man of then not knowing that such anger could even exist in her body. It took years to get their relationship back on track, and even longer to have the friendship they had now.

The punk that mocked him over the phone recommended getting together with her, after all he _looked _closer to her age, so many would not even question them being together. _He _would get something out of it then. Tim punched the pervert in the face, telling him to stay away or he would kill him. The man never reported the assault, but in exchange, Tim had to deal with his jeers. If he told, then the punk told. Bravery was a good twenty-three, Tim was closer to his forties, and he shivered at the thought of being with her. He may have had the fountain of youth poured on him, looking like a skinny little twig of twenty, glasses to match, but he did _not _want to get with Bravery. The woman was _firmly _in the Sister-Zone, and if in some twist of fate, she wanted him as time went, she could suck it up and get with one of the other agents.

Except the punk, because then Tim would be arrested for murder.

It was nightfall, and several gas-station stops later, that they found themselves in a forested area, the path long ago abandoned and Tim going off by memory alone. They stopped at the front of a birch tree, that tree being the clue in. Birches did not grow in the area, and so the old white tree was a dead giveaway, it being specially cared for to keep it full and bushy to the agents coming in. Tim smoothly came out of the car, walking around to open Bravery’s door, having to gently wake the drooling woman and convince her to come out.

The tree trunk opened as they walked towards it, a hidden camera looking at the car of matching description and license plate, admitting them to the base. As they got in, Tim tickled Bravery out of the way and pressed the 4 snuggled away in the mass of illuminous, steely and cold buttons. After several moments of silence, them slowly descending to their destination, the whirls of gears being the only audible sound, Bravery wrapped her arms around Tim, laying her head against his chest, shaking a little. Tim patted her on the back, whispering small comforts that were familiar to both their ears.

The metallic _ding! _made Bravery jump slightly, and the face that greeted her made her groan on the inside. The little _punk_. Pink hair–buzzed cut by his superiors, but the brat made sure to die his roots to death–greeted her sight as soon as the door opened, along with his annoying wolf whistle and exclaim of, “Here come the love birds!” The two looked at each other and shuddered, both then glaring death at the annoyance.

“Martin, I have a question.” Bravery said, stepping out of the elevator, Tim close behind. Martin jumped up and down in front of her, gleeful at the chance for attention, “Oh yes? My _dear_?” Martin–attempted to–purred seductively, stopping when death himself greeted him. Tim’s glare of many, _many _promises.

Bravery laughed at Tim’s glare, before turning back to the pink menace, “I was just wondering,” she stepped around him, looking at his debauched uniform of a half buttoned, collared shirt, black suit and slacks to match–he tried _so _hard to look attractive–and asked, “How is it, that out of the over ten _thousand _sperm, _you _were the quickest.” Astonished laughter met her remark, the crowd his exclaims had gathered chortling at the insult. Martin turned red, the pink buzzcut looking like neon lice, and retorted, “That wasn’t even original, shut your _big _mouth–Ugh!” Martin choked as Tim’s hands found his throat, thoroughly throttling him.

“You apologize right now, you deranged, little– “

“_ENOUGH!”_

The sound of a lion’s roar ripped through the funny scene, everyone scrambling to obey the beast. Loved-in boots squeaked and clicked against the floor, the few shiny parts reflecting the LED lights as the man walked past, and into sight. Sergeant, that was what he was called, even though he was the main man of the entire operation, his past career, which he had done with the utmost efficiency, afforded him the name. It was well earned.

“Hey Sarge,” Bravery greeted with a smile, running over to give him a brief hug. The Sergeant looked down at the girl fondly, patting her back briefly before straightening them both up. The man was tall, slender, black hair with vivid streaks of platinum white, blue, almond-shaped eyes with bits of silver in them, and the strictest, most feared man in the facility. He was also Tim’s uncle. Maybe they did know where he got his height from.

Tim nodded to his uncle, feet shoulder length apart and his left arm being grasped by his right hand, “Sir, we are here to make the report, Sir!” Martin snorted at the respectful display, used to the familiarity he had with Sergeant, thinking it stupid that someone who was blood-related would “stoop” to such things. Sergeant cracked his voice like a whip at Martin’s snort, “Just because your dim-witted brain can’t comprehend such a complex thing as respect, does not mean it deserves your ridicule!” Martin jumped, with a squeak he would deny later, and stood to attention to, resembling a lobster at the laughter of his peers. Sergeant looked Martin up and down, leering, “I hear you snort again, and I will personally build a pig pen with my own hands and throw you in with you brethren! Am I clear?” the Sergeant said dangerously. Martin nodded his head up and down at the speed of light, yelling “Sir, yes Sir!” not caring about the hysterics of his coworkers.

Seeing the pink-haired man sufficiently humbled, Sergeant gestured for the alien and his nephew to follow him to his office. Once the two walked in after him, the intimidating man shut the door behind them both. Despite Tim being his uncle’s younger clone, Sergeant was able to be much more intimidating than his nephew, even with the same goofy glasses–it was even his uncle who gave him the pair, renewing the prescription when needed–he commanded respect in everything he did. Sergeant had no doubt that Tim would learn to do the same, Bravery learning soon after.

“Alright, you two,” he groaned as he sat down, “Spill, what happened with the tracker?” The two had an idea, both thinking of it on the way there, but doubting its probability. Tim was the first to speak, “Would stress, or anything stress _related_, mess it up? If its in her heart, would the tracker go haywire at the sudden increase in movement?” Tim’s uncle appeared to be in thought, “That’s definitely a possibility” he mumbled, a clear Japanese accent lilting his deep voice. Tim was a first generation American, his parents and uncle being immigrants during WWII, his uncle quickly joining the military ranks and earning medal upon medal while his parents both studied medicine with his uncle’s increasing salary. Now, they were both successful nurses, and his uncle such a trusted individual in the military, that he had no need of a rank and was allowed in all its secrets, Bravery doubted if the President knew of her existence.

Sergeant, the idea having been planted in his head, asked, “Was the rude lady _that _bad? What did she do, hit you?” he continued, “Did she scream at you? Tim’s report didn’t mention any screaming.” The two fidgeted, Bravery opening her large mouth hesitantly, teeth gleaming, then closing it slowly. Tim played with his hands at rapid speeds, going through what he knew of sign language, starting with the alphabet. While what they did was technically okay, the fact they left out anything on the report would make Tim look really _bad. _Sergeant read them immediately, “What else happened?” he said in too-calm a voice. Tim flinched, damning his blasted mouth. Why did he always have to _prove _he was smart? He knew he was, so why couldn’t he shut up? They might have gotten away scot-free if he hadn’t said anything, if he played ignorant. The consequences would have been worse if they had gotten caught leaving anything out, if called out during an examination, but they might have avoided them all together as well.

Bravery took the lead this time, telling him about the sweet old lady that she wanted to keep for herself, how the lady’s sweet words must have sped up her heart past the tracker’s limit for too long and thus broke it. By the end of it, she was close to breaking down, long lips quivering and sharp teeth showing in a fearsome display. Tears streamed from her too-big, bright blue eyes, and she was hiccupping as she finished, Tim’s warm arms around her, rubbing her back soothingly. They were both mourning their privacy, she could no longer keep sweet moments sweet, having to ruin them by putting them in an emotionless report. Tim had no choice but to write it out, leaving out the words that would keep the kindness and intimacy of the moment there.

Sergeant looked at the mourning duo, always shocked at the care and attention his typically cold nephew showed towards the girl, “Forti,” he murmured comforting. That was her real name, or the untranslated version of it. It meant Bravery in her language, the scientists and linguists working tirelessly to translate the borderline illegible alphabet she had written when she was younger, never caring about learning how to write prettily. With her help, they managed to translate her language and use it to communicate to her, eventually giving the girl her translated name when they at last let her into the real world, “Bravery.” The now woman only hiccupped more, burrowing herself into his nephew’s chest. Sergeant bit his thumb, hand hovering over the tablet that he would use to update the report on. He could get fired; this could destroy his entire career. True, it was only a sweet, little story, but the military was always strict, no room for mistakes of any kind. He studied the woman then, the destroyed look in her sky-blue eyes breaking him down. This was why he never had kids!

Sighing, Sergeant rubbed a tired hand over his face, white hair seeming to take over his black, “Your dismissed.” He uttered. Tim looked at his uncle in pleasant surprise, gaping at the man. Bravery gawked as well, jaw-dropped, mouth fully opening in all its terrifying glory. He remembered the first time he had seen that, during a dentist visit. The dentist was very professional, barely twitching at the sight. Sergeant could admit, with shame, that the sight utterly terrified him, and he had to excuse himself for a few minutes to get his breathing under control. Now, he only grinned at the shocked woman, excusing her again with more force.

As the door closed, the two friends looked at each other, and busted out in hysteric laughter, Tim ignoring the looks of shock from his perplexed coworkers. Martin was more than surprised; he had never even seen the man _smile_. The friends quickly ran to their rooms, still remembering where they were, and once they got there, they hugged one another tightly. They got to keep that, that was theirs and theirs _alone. _Tim swung Bravery around and around, giddy at the taste of freedom, even if it was only a taste. He had felt just as trapped as she was, if not more so since he had to do all the reporting, feeling like a dirty traitor with every word he typed. The two entwined each other’s hands, swinging them as they walked to their own beds, they were just as tired as before.

Tim tickled Bravery into submission, wanting the shower first, and sighed in bliss at the feeling of his own clothes, a comfy thing of black pajamas with vivid purple seams. A gift from his mother, which he repaid with a dress of the same color scheme for Mother’s Day. Bravery was equally blissed out at the warm shower–the one at their apartment only able to spew ice-chilled water–skipping to her bed in her red and peach-colored set. As she skipped to her bed, her tablet gave an excited _ping! _as it lit up. Bravery and Tim looked at the text message. It was from Sergeant.

_Your examination is tomorrow._

_8am. Sharp._

_Don’t sleep in._

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to critique and more so.  
I will only do these during three day weekends or during breaks, that way, I will not go crazy with sleep deprivation during the school week and shorter weekends.  
I don't have much more than that, since I'm starting to understand how to use tabs. I do recommend reading, The Count of Monte Cristo. Don't let how old it is scare you, it's an insanely good piece of literature. I also recommend, for writers, to listen to music, and not listen to videos. In my experience, music just zones me out and gets me more focused. Videos-Netflix, Youtube, ect.-seem to put words in my head, and make my writing look choppy and flow oddly.  
Happy Writing, Bookworms!


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